


We Got Older, But We're Still Young

by grumblesandmumbles



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Anniversary, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Domestic Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher as a Father, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich as Fathers, M/M, Mickey Milkovich as a Good Father, Old Man Gallagher, Old Man Milkovich, Old Married Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 15:32:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3574709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grumblesandmumbles/pseuds/grumblesandmumbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian and Mickey celebrate their 45th wedding anniversary with their family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Got Older, But We're Still Young

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mickeysupset](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickeysupset/gifts).



> There was a lot of Grandpa feels going on from [mickeysupset](http://mickeysupset.tumblr.com) and she wanted Grandpa Mickey and Grandpa Ian fic, so she got it.

Mickey had taken to watching Ian as he slept every night. When they were boys, Mickey could sleep all day and night if left to it. But Ian had always been such a fucking early bird, going for runs, taking pictures of sunrises, even after working late nights. Still after he had gotten his bipolar disorder under control, those habits mostly remained. But they were older now, and while Ian was still quite active for a man his age, he slept much more. That was what first made Mickey understand that they were getting older. Not the blonde and white that had crept it's way into Ian's hair, not the salt and pepper he himself was now sporting. Not even the wrinkles, or the way that the eagle that had once soared over Ian's ribs now sort of floated. It was all the sleep Ian got, and all the sleep Mickey didn't get. He would try, he would lay there and feel Ian's breathing, willing himself to just sleep. But night after night, he would spend quite a bit of time just watching the rise and fall of Ian's chest in the moonlight. He wouldn't admit it, not even to Ian, but he was a bit afraid that he might miss something. He was very conscious of time now.

Mickey had known he cared about Ian from the moment the boy had knocked on his door, pleading to see him. His timing couldn't have been worse but Mickey made it work. They never talked about what was on Ian's mind, but the grip over Mickey's hand in that freezer had told him enough.

Mickey had known he loved Ian when his father busted in on them that day, the day that nearly ruined everything. Seeing Terry go after Ian did something to Mickey he couldn't explain. It was instinctual - protect Ian at all costs. Whether that meant jumping on Terry's back, or taking part in what Terry did to him, or marrying Svetlana, it was all for the purpose of protecting the man he loved.

Mickey knew he could never live without Ian when they went to the clinic together that very first time. 30, 40 years. It wasn't the numbers that scared Mickey. Just the idea that this thing they were dealing with wouldn't go away. But it didn't matter. Mickey was in it for the long haul. _He's got me_. After a few trips to the clinic, the doctor had finally talked Ian into writing that so-called "suicide list," but it only had one name: Mickey Milkovich.

Neither of them had cared much for the idea of marriage. They had no good working examples of it to inspire them, least of all Mickey's own. They had finally agreed to the idea for ten year old Yevgeny's sake. "Why won't you guys get married? Isn't that what people who love each other do? Mama's married to Nika! I want my dad and my pop to be married too. You told me you'd think about giving me a brother or sister, could you at least think about this?" That was the thing about it all. You sacrifice for the ones you love. Lord knows they had sacrificed more for less. So they had a simple civil ceremony at the courthouse. No frills. Except for during the vow exchange, when Mickey interrupted the justice. "Ian, I don't say it all the time but today I will. I love you. And I will always love you, for the next 30 to 40 years, and 30 to 40 more, and for as long as you'll have me." The meaning wasn't lost on Ian, who smiled so sweetly at Mickey as he rubbed his thumb across tattooed knuckles, slowing down to linger on the band now covering the second U.

Mickey looked down at his hands in the dark, twisting that very ring around on his finger, feeling the small dent on it from when he had sucker punched and knocked out the teeth of the fool who had dared to hurt their daughter. He felt guilty, had wanted to repair it somehow, but Ian loved it. Said it was the mark of a real father and he better not dare. He thought of their kids, of his Yev, their Yev, the baby Mickey didn't think he wanted but was the best thing to happen in his life, only behind Ian. Regina, their surrogate baby who bore her fathers fiery hair and freckles. Mickey would only call her Ginger and it drove her crazy, but she was his doll and got away with everything. Ian had rolled his eyes many times at the two of them through the years.

Foster parenting had been Ian's idea, not surprisingly. After bouncing in and out of the system during his youth, Ian was very firm in the idea that he wanted to foster when they were in a position for it. Ian had told him about the last place that Debbie had been in, how the woman was running a sweatshop and barely feeding the kids. He had expected a fight out of Mickey, but Mickey had seen how Ian jutted his jaw forward, ready for the arguing or yelling, and instead he just calmly agreed. By then Mickey was making good money in construction and on track to being a foreman, and Ian was teaching English at their old high school. In terms of stability they were more than ready. So after a long vetting process and an even longer wait, that's how Anthony and Melissa came into their lives. They were a brother and sister who had a bad start to their lives, and as soon as they met the pair, they were both reminded of Mickey and Mandy. Their attitudes, their words. Mickey was so taken with them that he knew he wanted to adopt them even before Ian did. If anyone dared to say these weren't their kids, they would probably sport a black eye. Mickey sometimes felt (though it was another one of those things he wouldn't admit, not even to Ian) that the day they adopted them and those kids asked to take their last names was the best day of his life. Even better than anything he and Ian had done together. He looked at them, still just young and innocent enough to have that hope, and he knew they had saved them from a rough life. When they saved them, Mickey also saved himself.

Mickey huffed a sigh and leaned over Ian to see the time on the alarm clock. 5:47am. Whether he liked it or not, he wasn't going back to bed and he knew it. He decided he might as well get a start on the day. He slowly slid out of the bed and got up, grabbing his cane off the door knob where he hung it every night, and heading downstairs. He went into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee, putting a small pinch of salt in to counteract the bitterness. When he started getting bad heartburn in his 50's, he remembered that his father had done this and he tried it. Lo and behold, it had helped. At least the son of a bitch had been good for something. When the coffee was finally done, he poured some into his World's Best Grandpa mug (the joke was on him, Ian had one too), grabbed his glasses off the counter and slowly made his way outside to the front porch. He sat on the steps, sipping his coffee and looking out to survey if anything was going on this early on North Wallace Street. Despite the fact that they had done well with their lives, they had never moved out of the Southside. Mickey just couldn't imagine himself living anywhere else, and Ian just wanted to be with him, it didn't matter where. When the yuppies had tired of their attempts to stake a claim in the neighborhood and the opportunity had presented itself, they bought the empty lot next to the Gallaghers and the house on the other side. They had knocked that house down and built a brand new house that was a nicer standard for the area. That was Mickey's compromise. The benefit of working in construction was plenty of access to handy friends who would help you do the work for a fraction of the price. 

Nothing was happening out on the street yet. Mickey sat and waited patiently until the paper boy arrived. He was a kid from the neighborhood, a nice boy, and if he saw Mickey waiting for him he would walk over and hand him the paper instead of just tossing it. Some days, bending to grab that paper was murder on his back, so he avoided it when he could. Every so often, he'd slip the kid a dollar or two as bribery to keep it up. A little after 6, the boy finally appeared. He greeted Mickey and dismounted his bike, walking over with the paper. Mickey gave him a nod and handed him the dollar he had tucked into the pocket of his robe just for the occasion. The boy waved and continued on his route. He put his glasses on and scanned the headlines, then flipped the paper open to see what was new in the world. He mumbled along his own commentary under his breath. "Fuckin' president, what a douche... This is why I don't vote... I pay enough goddamn taxes every year." He fumbled into his robe pocket for the lotto tickets he had bought the day before to check the numbers. He played the lotto most days. One time he even won a few grand, so after that he couldn't be stopped. No winners today though, just a bunch of duds.

He was so engrossed with the paper that he didn't hear when Ian finally came outside to join him. He felt a hand on his shoulder and heard that voice he had been listening to every day for all these years, but it was too low. He remembered the hearing aid in his ear was turned down and he waved until he had a chance to turn the volume up. He thought it was bullshit that he had to wear glasses AND had a hearing aid in one ear, but at least the other ear still worked fine. When it was adjusted, he was able to properly hear Ian's voice chastising him. "Mick, you know sitting on the steps like that does a number on your back. Like you don't have enough problems with it. We have a table and chairs out here for a reason, come sit with me." Mickey pecked Ian's hand and gave it a pat. "Can't see as good from there, the best view of the street is from the steps," he huffed as he worked to get up. Ian steadied him by his arm until he got his cane back under him and shuffled over to sit down. Ian had already put out cereal and fruit for them, as well as bringing the pot of coffee. "Fuckin' Corn Flakes," Mickey grumbled. "Can't you get something better next time?" Ian took the section of the paper Mickey had already finished and replied, "Doctor wasn't happy with your blood sugar last time we were there. Doesn't want you developing diabetes. Now eat your cereal, and don't forget your fruit." Mickey scowled at the half a banana in front of him as he cut it and dropped it in the bowl. "Fruit has fuckin' sugar too, ya know." Ian just ignored him and kept reading, chewing on a strawberry. 

 

It occurred to Mickey that they had a busy day ahead. He asked, "What time is everyone coming over later?" Mickey angled his body so that his good ear was facing Ian better in order to hear his answer. Ian thought for a moment and said, "Well Regina said she was coming around 10 to help get everything going, Jerry was going to bring the kids in the afternoon. Anthony and Melissa and all of theirs are coming around 1, and Yev and them will be here around 2 or 3, they couldn't get an earlier flight. My side should all be here in the early afternoon. What about Mandy and Iggy and all them?" Mickey nodded and said, "Pretty much the same." Ian slid his hand across the table and took Mickey's, thumbing the knuckles and lingering over the wedding band like he had done all those years ago. "Forty five years, Mick. Can you believe that?" Mickey shook his head. How could you wrap your mind around the idea of being married to someone for 45 years? He still thought of them as boys in a lot of ways. He didn't feel like one physically, but mentally he hadn't changed all that much. He looked at Ian and smiled, taking him in. They might be in their seventies now, but this was still the boy he loved. He looked at those green eyes, one now a bit clouded with a cataract Ian was scared to operate on, and he let go of Ian's hand so he could reach across the table and stroke his face. "That's just the time we've been married. If you count from when we got together you're talking damn near 60. We made it through the first 30 to 40," he said to Ian. "We're well into the second 30 or 40 and I'm willing to try to make it all the way if you are." Ian put his hand over Mickey's and nuzzled his face against it, turning to kiss Mickey's palm. "But first," Mickey continued, "I'm going to try to make it all the way to the shower." Ian looked at him with concern. He knew that Mickey downplayed how much his back hurt him. He asked, "Mick, do you need help?" Mickey got up and poked Ian with the cane. "Gallagher, if you want to see me naked, you don't need to ask." He winked and made to go inside, but Ian held his wrist to stop him. "Speaking of you naked, think we have time before you need to get in the shower?" Mickey looked at Ian's watch and said, "If you do all the work, I'm sure we can make time." Ian rolled his eyes and replied, "Don't I always do the work?" For that, he received a light swat on the back of his head. He got up and brought the remains from their breakfast into the kitchen while Mickey slowly made his way back upstairs.

 

For whatever problems Mickey did have, none of them required that little blue pill, a fact he was eternally grateful for. But sex was still a painful venture. He wasn't young and agile anymore. Ian couldn't just throw him down and have his way, but he could still have his way... Most of the time. Mickey was in a lot of pain but he didn't want to deny Ian. He hated saying no to him, even though he knew if Ian had realized how bad it was, he wouldn't have asked in the first place. He undressed and waited for Ian to find his way upstairs so they could get comfortable together. 

 

When Ian entered their bedroom, he marveled at how little Mickey had aged over the years. It never stopped surprising him. He had a little bit of what Ian called "old man paunch," the little belly so many men seem to form when they age, but Ian loved it. The rest of his body was much smoother than Ian's own. He had crow's feet and some forehead wrinkles, and his hands were starting to wrinkle too, but because he was never too slim and hated the sun, his skin was really holding up well. It wasn't hard at all for Ian to look at him and see the boy he fell in love with at 15. Ian moved towards the bed, disrobing and laying on the bed next to Mickey. He noticed that Mickey was still wearing his glasses and he gently removed them, placing them on the nightstand. He pulled one of the pillows from the pile of them and placed it under Mickey's back so that he could lay more comfortably. He laid down between Mickey's legs, leaning over the older man and kissing him softly, making sure to hold himself up and not hurt Mickey's back. He felt Mickey's hands exploring him. One ran down his stomach, still flat even though the sight of the ab muscles was one that now only existed in their memories. 

 

They took their time, every touch and move and kiss with a motive. They couldn't just attack each other anymore, their bodies needed time to adjust, to acclimate. Ian prepped Mickey slowly and with purpose. When he thought Mickey was ready, he entered him just as slowly. There were times that Mickey wished Ian could just get in him like they did when they were kids, but he knew if he wanted to be able to keep doing this, he had to take it at a slow pace. Over the years, they had both learned to appreciate it. Taking the time to learn and discover everything about the other, ever sensitive spot that made them gasp, every touch that set them off. When they had been young and first living on their own, they had slowed down to learn. As their kids came into their lives, they had to learn to quicken the pace again because there just wasn't always time to luxuriate over each other. Ian slipped a hand under Mickey and held his back to brace him, to make sure that he was okay. He held himself up with his other arm, pressing their bodies together gently but not weighing down on Mickey. They found their rhythm and rocked together, working their way to their climax. They came together and came down together, pausing for a moment to catch their breaths. Ian rested his forehead on Mickey's, still holding him from underneath. Mickey traced patterns on Ian's back. They rested for a few minutes before Ian looked at the clock. "Shit, we really do need to shower. Do you want me to just shower with you?" The question he left unasked was "Do you want me to help you?" Mickey poked him in the side where his tattoo was and said, "Still not enough of seeing me naked? Fine, but don't be a perv about it, you already had your way with me today." The answer that was unspoken was "Yes, I need your help." Ian knew enough to know that, but that even after all these years, Mickey sometimes had too much pride to actually suck it up and ask. He followed Mickey into the bathroom and turned on the shower, getting in with him. He put shampoo into his hands and lathered it through Mickey's hair, kneading the scalp with his long fingers. Mickey leaned into his touch and let out a low moan. Ian rinsed Mickey's hair and took the soap, lathering it in his hands and helping Mickey wash his body all the way down to his feet. The problems with Mickey had started when he had gotten injured at work and had to retire. He had surgery on his back which had helped, but he hadn't quite been the same since. It had hindered him a lot, a fact he didn't like to admit, but which Ian clearly knew. It was hard for them to sleep close, since Mickey was rarely comfortable any other way now except for propped up on his back. Most days, Ian could sleep pressed against Mickey, laying his head on Mickey's chest. But on the really bad days, even that was a lot to ask. He was proud though, and he had a sense of humor, and it was only on a rare occasion he would admit to Ian how bad the pain could be.

Once Ian had taken care of Mickey, he set about getting himself cleaned up. Not having the aches and pains that Mickey had made his process much quicker. They got out and got dressed. Mickey grumbled a bit when Ian picked out a newer shirt for him to wear, but Ian insisted. It was their anniversary party, and there would definitely be pictures. However, when Ian tried to get him to wear a tie, he put his foot down. "I'm not going for a goddamn job interview, no fuckin' tie!" Ian relented, but set the tie aside to try again later. Ian wandered through the house, making sure there was no last minute tidying that needed to happen, and leaving Mickey to get dressed on his own. He had started having more trouble with it, and Ian's need to be helpful always made them bicker. Rather than getting Mickey upset, it was just easier to leave him alone and let him work it out on his own. He made his way through the house but there wasn't much for him to do other than wash their breakfast dishes. A few Christmases ago, their kids had gotten them a professional cleaning service that came to their house every other week, so most times they only had their day to day mess to attend to. He was just putting the last of the dishes in the drying rack when he heard Mickey calling him from upstairs. When he got up there, he was met with quite a sight. Mickey had managed to get on his pants, undershirt and one sock. His dress shirt was over one arm but not the other. He had clearly been struggling with the shirt for a few before calling for help, since his face was pink with exertion and he was wincing in pain. Ian didn't give him grief about it though. He just turned the shirt the right way and helped Mickey get his arm through the empty sleeve, leaving Mickey to button himself up while he searched for the missing sock. He located it under the dresser and motioned Mickey to pick up his foot, slipping it on for him. Since he was already down there, he grabbed Mickey's shoes and set about putting them on too. "Alright Ian, I can manage the fucking shoes, they just slide on anyway." But Ian ignored him and did it anyway. When he got back to his feet, he adjusted Mickey's collar and offered Mickey his elbow to hold while they went downstairs. Mickey scowled but lightly gripped it anyway.

They made it downstairs and heard a car door shut outside. Ian could see Regina walking up to the house, hands full of stuff, so he opened the door for her. "Hi Daddy!" she yelled as she came up the porch stairs. She entered and put all her stuff down in the kitchen. When she came back, she gave Ian a hug and kiss and then went to find Mickey, who was on the couch watching TV. "Hi Papa," she said as she dropped a kiss on his head. "Hi Ginger," he replied as usual, stealing a glance up at her. Sometimes he just liked to watch her in motion. Between her energy and that flaming red hair, she reminded him of Ian so much from when they were kids, even though she was 43 now. But she never stopped moving. She and Ian made their way into the kitchen to sort out what needed to be done for the day, talking about food orders that had been placed, who was coming when, who was handling what. Mickey tuned it out. The parties were never his thing, but Ian loved that stuff. Mickey was just content to see all of his kids in the same place at the same time, a rarity now that everyone had their own families, and even more so since Yev had moved out of Chicago and taken a job in Cleveland. It had been a great opportunity, and the money was incomparable, but Mickey missed him a lot. He thought it was less about the job and more about Yev needing an escape after Svetlana had passed away. If he had been a betting man, he'd have bet on her outlasting most of them, but he hadn't counted on a car accident taking her. It had been some time now, 15 years, but it still affected Yev deeply. Hell, even Mickey missed her. She had been their savior when they went through puberty and "the talk" with their daughters. Twice a year, on her birthday and the anniversary of her passing, Mickey went to the church where they had Yev baptized and lit a candle for her. Then he went home and had a shot of vodka. He felt the ritual was fitting.

He sat there in the living room, lost in memories of years past, unaware that he was being watched. Ian was watching him intently. He had even motioned to Regina and had her watching for a minute or two before he brought her out into the backyard. They moved towards the plot of land he had made into a vegetable garden so she could pick some stuff for the day, while he grabbed a basket for her to fill. "Gina, do you see what I mean now? He does this constantly. Just stares off, lost in space or some shit, twisting that ring around on his finger. Either he's losing his mind or he's thinking of leaving me." She rolled her eyes and said, "Dad, stop being dramatic. He's not going anywhere, he can't get through a day without you. If you want to know what's going on in his head, fucking ask him." She inspected the cucumbers and selected a bunch to throw into the salad she planned to make later. "You know," Ian said to her, "You might look just like me but you act just fuckin' like him." Regina just shrugged and said, "Well, I'm sure that's why you like me so much." She moved towards the tomatoes next, picking the plumpest and reddest ones. "Besides," she added, "I hate to break it to you but you guys are getting older. Maybe he just doesn't focus as well and he stares off." But Ian knew that wasn't it. When Mickey got like this, Ian could tell there was a lot happening under the surface. 

Suddenly they heard yelling from the front of the house. "WHAT DID I TELL YOU LITTLE SHITS ABOUT PLAYING BALL BY MY HOUSE?! YOU ALREADY BROKE ONE OF MY WINDOWS LAST YEAR, GO BY YOUR OWN FUCKIN' HOUSE!" They heard a young boy's voice respond and Ian instantly knew it was that little shit Charlie from down the block. "SHUT UP OLD MAN MILKOVICH, WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO, CHASE ME DOWN? GOOD LUCK CATCHING ME WITH YOUR CANE." Ian winced to himself, he knew that was a sensitive subject. "DON'T NEED TO BE ABLE TO RUN TO SHOOT YOU, YOU LITTLE FUCK!" There was a shot and Ian was convinced that Mickey had finally went off the deep end. He ran around the house and found Mickey on the porch, aiming the gun in the air and the kids scattering. "Mick! Put that shit away, fuck's wrong with you?!" Mickey rolled his eyes and said, "I didn't fire at them, Jesus! It was just a warning shot in the air. Worked, didn't it?" But he did lower his arms and Ian stomped up on the porch and snatched the gun, clicking the safety on. "Mickey, I am not spending our anniversary bailing you out of jail. So quit your shit. I had enough of visiting you in juvie in our teens and bailing you out of the clink in our 20's, I'm good." He went inside and put the gun back in Mickey's gun cabinet. Ian found Regina in the kitchen, casually washing the vegetables she had selected, and he joined her. 

At one point, he heard a floorboard creak behind him and he turned around. He saw Mickey watching him from the doorway, biting his lip. For a second, Mickey was 17 again. Ian was never very good at staying mad at him. He dried his hands and went over, putting his arm around Mickey's shoulders and pulling him in. He kissed Mickey's temple and rubbed his shoulder. "Mick, why don't you go relax for a bit before everyone gets here? It's going to be a long day." Mickey nodded and slowly moved upstairs while Ian watched. He was going to leave Mickey alone, but he changed his mind. "Hey Gina," he addressed his daughter, "Think you could handle things alone for a bit while I go upstairs?" She waved him off and he ascended after his husband. Ian opened the bedroom door and saw Mickey laying on his back, staring at the ceiling. "Bad today, huh?" Ian asked him. Mickey waited a beat before he finally nodded. "Did you take anything?" He shook his head and replied, "You know I don't like to take the heavy stuff, makes me loopy. I don't wanna be high when everyone's here. Over the counter stuff doesn't even take the edge off. Why bother?" Ian sat down on the bed, slowly as not to jostle Mickey and make things worse. "Mick, they're family. They've seen you and me at our worst, being a little loopy wouldn't even compare to the shit they've seen us say and do." 

Mickey nudged his hand and Ian knew what he wanted. Mickey tilted his head forward and Ian slid his arm under Mickey and wrapped it around so he could lay his hand on Mickey's heart. On the bad days, it was the closest they could get to laying together. Ian turned his face to Mickey's and saw a sneaky tear hiding in the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. He leaned in and kissed it away. "Ian, when did we get so fuckin' OLD? In my head and my heart I still feel like a kid, but my body is betraying me. I don't know how to deal with it." His heart hurt knowing that Mickey suffered through most of his days. Ian felt guilty because he knew that he was doing pretty well for his age. He had aches and pains some days, but for the most part he just got tired easier. He pressed his nose to Mickey's cheek, breathing in his aftershave and whatever that thing was that made him. He really did love the way Mickey smelled, even after all these years. "I'm sorry you're hurting. I wish you would try to take something and let it help you." But Mickey wouldn't have it. "If I could fix it for you, I would. I'd do anything." Mickey petted the hand over his heart. He knew.

They dozed for awhile, until Regina came upstairs and knocked on their door. "Anthony and Melissa are here with the kids." Ian told her that they'd be right down and he heard her go downstairs and warn the kids that Pop wasn't feeling good and not to hang all over him. Thankfully, Mickey hadn't woken up, so he hadn't heard it. Ian slid his arm out from underneath and got up, straightening out his clothes and smoothing his hair, before he went around to Mickey's side and woke him up. "Hey, Anthony and Melissa just got here. You feeling a little better?" Mickey got up, seesawing his hand. He felt a little better, but wasn't confident that it would last. "Ian? I'll take a pill. Just one." Ian got them from the bathroom and offered one to Mickey who swallowed it dry. He fixed his own hair and he and Ian went to greet their youngest kids and grandkids. When Mickey saw the kids, he put on his best brave face and gave out lots of hugs and kisses. Anthony and Melissa could see through it, but saved face and didn't say anything. They and their spouses gave their dads hugs and kisses and moved to help Regina in the kitchen, having picked up all the food for the party, while Ian and Mickey entertained the kids. Yev's flight wound up landing early and he and his family got there shortly after his siblings. Most of his own hair was gray now, and Mickey marveled at the fact that he had a son who was in his 50s. He looked so much like Mickey, except that he was taller and huskier. He patted his oldest son's face and hugged him close. "I've missed you, Yev." Yev nodded onto his shoulder. "Me too, Dad." He loved that he was Yev's dad. Well, he was dad to all of them, but the rest of them all called Ian that, and called him Papa. Except for Yev. It was special to Mickey. Yev's kids also followed different names for them than the rest of the grandkids. Before she passed, Svetlana had them using Russian words and some of them had really taken, including calling him Dedushka, which was Russian for grandfather. Sometimes they called him Ded for short. The rest of the kids called him Pop. Ian was always Grandpa, across the board. They greeted Yev's kids, who were older and soon wound up in the kitchen with the rest of the adults getting things together. They also greeted Yev's wife, Amy. Or if they wanted to be precise, Amy Ball-Milkovich. One of the two twin daughters of Kev and Vee. They didn't mean to be biased, but they did pay her a bit more mind than their other sons or daughters in law. They had known her from birth, after all. 

Soon the house was brimming with people. The entire Gallagher clan arrived, with their own spouses and kids and grandkids in tow. Then Regina's husband Jerry and their kids. The yard was taken over by tables and chairs and grandkids running every which way. It was chaos, It felt like an old school Gallagher pop up party, minus the illicit drugs, overabundance of alcohol, and trashed father figures. Ian didn't think of Frank much, but when he did, there really wasn't anger anymore. He still thought Frank had been a crap father, but he also just felt kind of sorry for him, knowing that there were things he had went through in his life and that he had been very ill-equipped to deal with them. Ian didn't think it excused his behavior, but he did think it explained quite a bit. Now most of the time when he did think of Frank, who had lived well into his 80s, it would be of something funny he did, or one of his philosophical drunk ramblings that actually almost made sense if you were patient enough to piece it together. And almost always, he thought of the time Frank caught him and Mickey in the freezers, and had next to no reaction. Mandy and Iggy appeared, he helping her carry her photography equipment. All those years ago, she had fled Chicago with her asshole boyfriend and dreams of making something out of nothing. It hadn't worked in Indiana, but after he had hit her for what she finally decided would be the last time, she stole all his money and made her way to New York. She somehow got into photography and had made a career out of it. A lucrative one, at that. She was always tasked with taking the pictures at family gatherings, and she loved it. She had never married or had kids, she was so into her career that she had no interest in any of that. But she relished in Mickey turning out to be the biggest softie in the Milkovich family with an entire brood of kids and grandkids underneath him, and she loved playing the doting aunt, always bringing the kids food or souvenirs from wherever she visited. The last to arrive was Nika. In the early days after Svetlana had passed, she rejected invites to family functions, but as time went on she allowed herself to be brought back into the fold.

Since everyone had arrived, the first order of business was to take one huge family portrait. Mandy got her equipment assembled and got everyone set up before jumping into the frame and using a remote to work the camera. She took a bunch of pictures before the younger kids started fidgeting too much and they decided to all sit down and eat. Once everyone was seated, Mickey stood up and pulled Ian to stand up with him. "If you'd all shut the fuck up for a minute, I got something I wanna say." He saw Melissa wince at the language, peeking over at her kids, but they seemed oblivious. "I just wanted to say that we're really happy that everyone is here. I sometimes forget that we've been together for so long. Ian, I look at you and I still see that 15 year old kid with all those freckles and that goofy smile. I look at our kids, and our grandkids, and I don't know how we got here. Even still, I don't know what I did to deserve it. But I wouldn't change a thing. I know you tell people how I helped you get through the early days with your bipolar. But Ian, _you're_ the one who saved _me_. Not the other way around. You still save me, every day. When even getting out of bed and taking a shower hurts, you always make it easier. You're my best friend. So thank you, for not letting me scare you away all those years ago. For coming back. For giving me more chances than I deserved. For fighting with me, fighting for me and then fighting beside me. Because there is not a chance in hell that my life would even be half as good as this without you."

By the time he was done speaking, there was barely a dry eye among the adults. Ian sniffed loudly and hugged Mickey, burying his face on the shorter man's shoulder. Mickey stroked his hair and whispered sweetly to him and the grandkids oohed and aahed over them, but they didn't even hear it. Even now, they could shut out the world when they wanted to. Ian held him a little longer, using the time to compose himself, and eventually they sat down to eat. They held hands under the table like lovesick children, Ian fumbling to eat with his left hand just so he wouldn't have to let go. The day continued on, full of celebration. The grandkids asked them lots of questions about how they met, what they were like when they were young, and they told them edited but still colorful stories about all of the antics they had gotten into, separately and together. Even though they had expressly told everyone not to get them anything, gifts started appearing. There were plenty of homemade arts and crafts from the younger children, grandpa labeled items from the older ones, a small box from Lip that he told them not to open around the kids (that brought some concern, but they figured they'd find out eventually what the secrecy was about) and finally Mandy brought over a few large boxes, one at a time. "I was originally going to wait for your 50th anniversary to do this, but I'm impatient and we're all getting too old for this waiting bullshit. I've been working on this for a very long time, over a course of a number of years. I think you'll like it. Go in order." She pushed one box towards them first and they opened it. Inside were 15 black and white framed photos, 8x10 pictures, all that she had taken of them and their kids or grandkids over the years. The first one was from the courthouse the day they got married. They opened the next two boxes and found 15 more pictures in each one. One picture for each year they were married. The last one was a picture that Mickey was pretty sure even predated their wedding. It was in their first apartment together. The two were clearly sleeping, shirtless but mostly covered with a blanket. Mickey was sprawled out and Ian was half on top of him, and the two appeared completely at peace. The light was shining in through the bedroom window onto them. He traced his fingers across the glass over Ian's form. _I'm a lucky man. I don't ever take for granted how lucky I am._

For awhile after that, Ian had ran around with the grandkids and Mickey watched them. He envied Ian's energy and not living in pain. It had been easy for him with the older grandkids, but Melissa's in particular got shafted, as they were all born after Mickey had already been hurt. He figured he could at least try to be the cool grandpa. He couldn't run around with them, but he was silly and unreserved and they loved the crazy stuff and the curses that came out of his mouth. They were fascinated that he had tattoos on his hands. He would embellish every story he told them to seem like the craziest thing to ever happen. It was the best he could do. Eventually things started to wind down and the older crowd was getting tired. Many of the guests had left but Yev, Amy and their kids were still there, along with Regina. Mickey was actually worn out and hoped that meant he would sleep decently tonight. He had also opened Lip's present and found a few tightly rolled joints. He and Ian had sneaked off at one point and smoked them in the bathroom like a couple of teenagers. Not only did they get the giggles and blow their own cover like a couple of amateurs, but the plus side was that Mickey's back felt great. It wasn't even hurting. So when they did eventually say goodnight to the stragglers and made their way upstairs, Mickey knew he should take advantage of this good fortune. "Ian, I want to sleep like we used to." Ian looked at him sharply and replied, "But Mick, what about your back?" He twisted back and forth a little to show Ian and said, "That pot worked wonders. Not even hurting. I want to take advantage of it. It may bite me in the ass tomorrow, but that's a chance I'm willing to take." He touched Ian's face and smiled. Ian couldn't say no. Mickey got into bed first, laying down on his side. Ian slowly sidled up behind him and wrapped his arm around Mickey's waist, tucking his other arm under the pillows. "Mick, promise me if it does start to hurt you'll wake me and we'll move." He nodded and pressed his back against Ian's stomach. It was the best night of sleep he had in years.

\--------------------

_You died on a Monday. It's been a few months now. I don't know how I get through each day without you. I got that call from the hospital that you were there, and it didn't even occur to me that it could be something serious. Not even for a moment. Just like that, gone. They said it was a heart attack, that you didn't feel a thing, that it was quick. I don't know what happened after they told me you were gone. There's just a lot of things I don't remember. Probably because I can't bear the idea of remembering anything without you in it. The kids worry after me. They're trying to get me to move out, sell the house, downgrade or move into some retirement place. I told them I wouldn't leave this house until they had to carry me out in a bag. They think I'm going to do something drastic. Sometimes I think so too. I remind myself that we have kids and grandkids that I need to be here for. That it wouldn't be fair. But what's unfair is that I have to live without you. I always told you I couldn't bear it, I begged you to promise me I could be first. You thought you were weak, but you were always so strong. Whatever strength I've ever had, I found in you. You just never seemed to understand. I played your birthday in the lotto and it hit. Was that your doing? It felt that way. I talk to you all the time. Sometimes I feel like a fuckin' idiot, but sometimes I swear you're there listening, just hanging around with me. I hung up all of those pictures Mandy gave us at our anniversary party. I think sometimes about how she was going to wait for our 50th but didn't. Good thing too, we didn't make it there, did we? I wonder if she got one of her "feelings," you know how she is with that shit. I put the one of us in bed above our bed (where else?) and I look at it constantly. I don't know how to sleep without you. Sometimes I swear I hear you and for a moment I forget that you're gone. When I remember, it's like a crash landing. But I don't think I've got much longer. I think I'll be with you soon. I used to think the idea of someone dying from a broken heart was ridiculous, but now I'm sure it's true. I love you._

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to find me on Tumblr [here](http://grumblesandmumbles.tumblr.com).
> 
> Don't hate me for my sad ending, I already hate myself a little for it.


End file.
